


Experiments

by LucentPetrichor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pineapples, Slice of Life, The Author Regrets Nothing, author may have issues, honestly there is science behind this, i love tagging things..., johnlock if you squint maybe possibly it's sort of canon anyway, now onto the drabbly fic thing!, really quite short, sorry 'bout that, yes that really is a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucentPetrichor/pseuds/LucentPetrichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life with Sherlock is always interesting, but then, what else would you expect from the world's only consulting detective? In which shenanigans with pineapples and various body parts occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiments

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine; I borrowed them from Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffat and am loathe to return them. My precioussss(es)...
> 
> This was the first fic I ever uploaded on ff.net so I feel it's appropriate to do the same here. I do like AO3 a lot more than ff.net, it has to be said.  
> I think it was inspired by a Biology lesson from like the autumn term... honestly can't remember now.

“Sherlock, what the hell is this?!”

The now familiar cry rang through 221B Baker Street, home of the world’s only consulting detective, his blogger, and their houseke – sorry, their landlady.  The source of the cry was our infamous blogger, John Watson who had just opened the fridge with the intent of finding cheese for a sandwich, but instead found himself face to face with another one of Sherlock’s infernal experiments. This time it was tongues. And an odd smell of pineapples. John stood and stared for a few seconds before yelling again “Why in God’s name are there six tongues that look half eaten in the fridge?!”

Sherlock, being Sherlock, had ignored the first question and carried on playing his violin in the hope of there being a second so he could show off a little. He answered now “John, did you know that pineapples contain an enzyme called bromelain that breaks down protein?”

The reply was pretty much what he had expected: a bit more yelling, a couple more swearwords, then forced calm. Standard John. “Sherlock, that still doesn’t answer the question of why the **hell** there are partly digested tongues in the fridge.”

“Simple! It’s an experiment.”

“And what exactly are you experimenting?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“No, I bloody well cannot guess and you know that!”

“Do I?”

“You’re the best detective in the world; surely you can deduce that no one in the world can guess what goes on in your head?”

“Go on, take a guess. I’ll give you a clue: digestion begins in the mouth.”

“Sherlock, that is disgusting.”

“It’s an experiment! Worked it out yet?”

“There’s a case that has something to do with a dead man with a partly digested tongue?”

“Close but no cigar. Meaning you’re almost completely wrong.”

“Right... Would you like to tell me what on earth you’re doing, then?”

“There was a dead man, yes, but I solved that one within a couple of hours. No, this is much simpler: curiosity. Think of it like a race; I want to see whether pineapple juice digests tongues faster than trypsin, which is made in the pancreas. It’s sort of like... oh, how would I explain this to a lesser mind... external digestion verses internal digestion.”

John ignored the insult. “Are you trying to tell me that I have just spent the best part of five minutes arguing about tongues in the fridge when I could have been making a sandwich because of your morbid curiosity?”

John wasn’t really expecting an answer that would appease him but he lived in hope.

“Yes.”

“Oh for... Right, lovely, carry on. I’ll be here, making a sandwich and wondering why I put up with you...”

Sherlock grinned; it was nice to have a flatmate who didn’t make a fuss over his little experiments.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so very very sorry for those of you who stuck with this to the end, your poor brains must be dying T_T  
> Care to tell me the level of brain damage I inflicted by leaving some sort of review and making me a happy bunny?


End file.
